WINDREAPER (3 page)

Teal finally heard emotion in that scratchy voice. "He won't try, Milord. As long as he knows you're helping, he'll make sure his men leave you alone. He'll do everything he can to protect you and the others. He wants your success as much as you do."

There was a harsh, mocking laugh. "I don't think so, du Mer!"

Teal felt anger. "He won't hinder you, Milord."

"I have no fear that he will. I'd kill him before I allowed him to get in our way. If even one of my men is compromised because of Legion A'Lex, I'll know where my blade will come calling!"

A faint outline of light came as a second doorway opened. Two guards flanked the Darkwind and Teal knew the man was about to leave. He wanted to assure him of his loyalty, but Liza's words came to him instead.

"Lord Darkwind!" Teal said.

The shape turned and Teal saw two glowing eyes in the darkness. He shuddered, stepped back from the refracted light in those alien eyes.

"Well?"

"The Queen asked that I give you a message should I meet you."

The dark outline stiffened, but the man did not speak.

"What did she say?" Roget asked, his voice filled with an odd inflection.

"She told me to give the Darkwind her best wishes; to tell him she wished him well."

Harsh, contemptible laughter came from the Darkwind, laughter so hard and telling it flashed through Teal's soul. It was frightful to hear and somehow lethal in its intensity. The man was still laughing as the door closed behind him.

"One word of warning, little brother," Roget said later as they made their way from the stable to where Teal's horse was hidden. "Don't
ever
mention Her Highness to him again."

"Why not?" Teal asked, surprised.

"If you value your life, just don't!"

His hands slid through her thick ebony hair and he brought her mouth to his. Her body molded to him, pressed intimately, knowledgeably, to the hard length of his and ground against him. His fingers tightened in her hair and his tongue flicked out with lightning raids at her parted lips, touched her own questing tongue.

"Now," she begged, her throaty voice husky with desire. "Take me now."

"Not yet," he mumbled against her lips.

She was on fire for want of him. His shaft was like steel along her lower belly and she felt her knees going weak as his right hand molded itself over her naked breast.

"Please!" Her voice was thick, full of need. She pushed herself against him and groaned when he pulled back, denying her sensitive pubic region access to his hard thigh.

"You can wait," he told her. His fingers squeezed her breast, his thumb rubbing insistently across the swollen nipple.

Her arms tightened around his neck for a moment before her hand slid upward to thread its fingers through his silky hair. She pressed her mouth against his and thrust her tongue deeply inside, enjoying the low chuckle that erupted from the back of his throat.

He pulled his lips free. "Eager little slut, aren't you?"

His voice was raspy, tinged with a strange accent she couldn't identify, for it was like none she could ever remember hearing. There was a hardness to his playful tone, an intended insult in his easy words, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to be lying beneath him, to have him thrusting into her eager body as he had done many times in the past.

"Don't make me ache like this!" she pleaded, moving against him. "Why do you make me ache like this?"

His laugh was almost evil, she thought, as his hands moved to her buttocks. He cupped the high-rounded mounds and lifted her with ease, pulling her up his body until her legs went around his hips. She pressed herself to his naked strength.

"You want it?" he mumbled against her mouth.

Her throat closed as she felt him prodding at the juncture of her thighs. "
Yes!"
she breathed, arching against him. "
Yes!"

He pushed her against the wall, bracing her clinging body so he could put one hand down to his shaft. She felt his fingers scorching her as he guided his steel manhood to her eager lips. When he thrust into her, hard and savagely, she screamed her pleasure and clamped the muscles of her vagina around the velvety invasion of his body.

"I love you," she told him as he began to stroke deeply within her.

"Sure you do," he answered, never breaking his rhythm. His hips arched upward, his strong legs giving push to the thrusts.

"I do, Lord Darkwind," she whispered against his cheek. "I love you."

A snort of laughter came from him. He turned her around with him, walked to the bed, and fell with her, his weight nearly crushing her as he came down hard. He never broke contact with her as he scooted their joined bodies up the bed. He positioned her so he could brace his feet against the footboard and he drove into her hard enough to cause real pain.

She screamed, no longer in lust and need. His throbbing shaft truly hurt her, and she knew he meant to hurt her. He enjoyed it. He always did. When would she ever learn not to tell him she loved him, she thought, as she felt her body being pummeled.

"You like that?" he snarled against her cheek as he made her whimper. "Is that what you want, whore?"

She took his abuse, feeling his steel-like rod jamming as far as it would go inside her. She felt his body tensing, knew he was about to vent his rage inside her, and clasped him to her, pulling his magnificent body as close to her own as she could get it.

Although she had never seen his face, she knew his lips would be drawn back over his teeth in a snarl. She somehow knew his eyes, those brilliant, piercing orbs of midnight blue, would be hard and deadly. That had been the only thing she had ever seen of his face—those deadly eyes. Neither had she seen the hard-muscled body that was slamming against her own. She had felt it, the gods knew she had felt it, time and time again, with her fingers, her lips, her own body, but not once in the year-and-a-half he had been coming to her hut had she ever seen the man, himself, nor his muscular body.

"If he comes to you," one of his men had told her, "we'll have to blindfold you. If you take off that blindfold, we'll kill you. Do you understand?"

She had nodded to the man they called Sparrow. She looked from the wagon where she had been chained with other women on their way to a nunnery in Fealst to the black-hooded man sitting astride the big black destrier. She felt him watching her, tried to smile at him, but found her lips frozen.

"He wants you." Sparrow smirked. "You willing or not?"

And she had been more than willing to become one of the many playthings of the Dark Overlord of the Wind. Her first night with him had been a lesson in degradation and abuse, but she had found pleasure in the rough treatment and in the way his body controlled hers. The only thing that had marred the night's passage was his obvious contempt for her.

"Keep your whoring mouth shut and your dirty hands off me when I'm finished with you," he had snarled when he rolled away from her. "If I want you again, you'll be told!"

And he had come to her again, many times over the months. Not nearly as much as she had wanted, or needed, but enough to fulfill the part of her that craved him. And still, not once in all that time had she seen his face.

Now, he arched against her, shot hot semen deep within her, and held himself still, tense. From months of experience with her, he knew she'd follow close behind him, and when she did, he withdrew immediately and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. He never left her wanting, although she knew it wouldn't bother him if he did.

"Did you do what I told you?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Aye, Lord Raven. I made sure there'll be no babe born of our coupling." Her fingers reached up to scratch at the black silk blindfold covering her eyes.

"Don't," he warned.

"I wasn't taking it off," she hastened to say. "You know I wouldn't do that."

"Whores will do anything," he growled. The bed move as he got up. She could hear him slipping back into his midnight clothes.

"I am no whore, despite what you think." She gasped as his fingers closed around her throat and pressed her head into the pillow.

"Were you a virgin when I first took you?"

"No, but—"

"How many men had you lain with before that?"

"I don't—"

"Aye, you do know, slut!
How many?"
His fingers tightened.

"Four, five! I don't remember!" She could barely breathe.

"And how many of them were married?" He shook her.

"
Two!"
she gasped, reaching up to pry his fingers from her throat.

He knocked away her hand. "One was your brother-in-law, right?"

How he knew that, she had to wonder, but his fingers hurt her so badly, she was afraid he would kill her. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, her voice pressing from her throat.

"I want you to tell me you fucked your husband's brother, that's what I want you to tell me, bitch!"

She felt rage powering out of him, felt it in the strength of his fingers, and wondered what woman had hurt him so badly.

"
Tell me!"

"Aye," she admitted. "It was my husband's oldest brother."

The fingers relaxed, then moved away from her throat. His voice was a low rumble of hate. "Like I said…a whore will do anything!"

She lay there after he was gone, crying, hurt, needing him just as much as ever. She knew he'd be back, just as he always came back. There were eight others like herself that she knew about, and there were probably more in Virago, Chale, the other kingdoms. She was not his only whore.

They all had three things in common, she thought, as she stared into the darkness and heard the last echo of his horse's thundering hooves dying in the night.

Each of the women he visited on a regular basis had shiny, long, black hair.

Each had eyes the color of the grass in spring.

And each had committed adultery at least once—with their husband's brother.

Brelan Saur ran a hand through his thick brown hair and cursed. His footsteps, as he walked up the steps to the tavern, were hard and angry.

For months he had been trying to get into Boreas Keep, but every time he tried to gain access, he had found extra lookouts—Temple Guards, at that—surrounding the place. He had tried to get messages through to Legion on where to meet him, but spies in Rylan Hesar's network had failed. Finally, one of his men told him that Teal had brought news from the Dark Overlord, himself, that all the men were well and had joined forces to fight Tohre.

"Damn it!" Brelan spat as he jerked open the tavern door with a snap. "Damn it to hell and back!"

He should have been in Boreas Keep at that moment, not trying to find Conar to tell him he had failed. Conar wasn't going to like it, and he wasn't going to allow Brelan to give him excuses about his failure. He could feel that scathing tongue lashing him even before he heard it.

And hear it he did.

What Brelan heard as he entered the Hound and Stag tavern was nothing compared to what he saw. The sight made his blood run cold.

Conar stood on a table, a naked blade in his powerful hand, the tip pointed with unsteady aim at the throat of a menacing Temple Guard. Another guard lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

Brelan groaned with despair. Around him stood Roget du Mer, Shalu Taborn, Sentian Heil and Thom Loure, men who usually stayed close to Conar's side, all dressed in the unkempt disguise of the Wind Force. Conar, however, his bearded face uncovered, his long braided hair swinging behind him, was toying with the man at his blade tip while his own men hovered by uneasily.

"Repeat it, you scum!" Conar shouted in a slurred voice that made Brelan flinch.

If he hadn't staggered, if he hadn't lost his footing on the ale-slick table, if he hadn't fallen backward into Roget's waiting arms, Conar more than likely would have severed the head of the Temple Guard—a man Brelan had been cultivating for months at Boreas Keep. The guard, who was likely trembling more with annoyance than fear, would no doubt have stood his ground until death, rather than strike out at the Darkwind, but that was beside the point. The next guard might not.

Brelan was furious as he looked at Shalu. "How many in this room are ours?"

"All, Wren," Shalu swore, using Brelan's cover name. "These guards came in only a moment before you did."

Sentian and Thom had swords pointed at the surviving guard. Brelan strode forward to knock away the swords. "
He's
one of
us,
you bumbling idiots! Roget, you promised to protect him! Do you remember that, Hawk? Is this how you go about it?"

"He got a little drunk, that's all," Roget said.

Brelan gave a disgusted snort and turned to Thom. "Get that dead man buried before the whole Temple Regiment comes down on us!" He pointed a finger at Roget. "And get his ass upstairs and out of sight!" He swung around to fix Shalu with a murderous glare. "This guard's name is Zeb. See that he's sent through the undercurrent to Chrystallus. If I hadn't come in when I did, you bastards would have lost us a valuable man!"

Shalu ground his teeth together. "It got out of hand."

"
It
got out of hand?" Brelan sneered, "or
he
got out of hand?"

"We were watching him."

"Watching him?" Brelan bellowed. "He drew a sword to the throat of a Temple Guard, Rook! One of Kaileel Tohre's
personal
guards, at that! You have no way of knowing how important this man is to us. His information will be invaluable! What if Darkwind had been just a bit less sober? Huh? There were two to his one. They could have cut him down. Drunk as he is, it's a wonder he's still alive!"

Shalu grunted. He folded his arms over his massive chest and glared back at Brelan. "You know only his own weapons can harm him. And nothing happened to him."

"Nothing…" Brelan took a step forward. "Aye, and you're damned lucky, Rook!"

"He's a grown man, Wren," Sentian snarled. "He does as he pleases. We have about as much authority over him as we do the wind!"

Brelan lurched around and stepped up to Sentian. They had never liked one another and still didn't. "You've got a short memory, Sparrow. Was it not you who said, although he is a man full grown, he has the temper of a little boy? Would you let one of your sons point a naked blade at a Temple Guard and do nothing to stop him? You have as much authority over
him
as
he
has over
you
! You think he would knowingly let
you
do something so damned stupid?"

"Nothing happened," Sentian snapped, but his face turned a lighter shade. "We would have protected him. Don't
ever
doubt that, Wren!"

"I have no doubt you would have tried!" Brelan headed for the stairs, motioning the men of Conar's personal guard to follow him, although, at that moment, he would have liked to run them all through with his sword. He stopped on the steps leading to the bedchambers and fixed Shalu and Sentian with a furious glare. "Maybe I expect too much of you."

The Necroman and the Serenian warrior exchanged looks of outrage, but neither spoke. Thom snaked out a hand and took the Temple Guard's forearm, bringing the man with them up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Roget du Mer stood up from the mattress where he had removed the Raven's shirt and boots. "I'm sorry, Wren."

Brelan let out an angry breath. "It's a little too late for apologies, Hawk."

"He has no care for the danger! We do all we can to stop these situations—you know that—but we can't watch him every minute. He has this knack of disappearing on us."

"Just like his lady used to," the Temple Guard murmured. The men turned stunned faces to him. The guard's expression turned solemn. "I know who he is. I almost croaked when I recognized him, but he's the reason I am betraying Tohre. Why do you think I joined the Wind Force? I don't give a damn about Serenian independence from the Tribunal. I cared about him! I wanted to do something I thought he would have done if he'd still been with us." He pointed his finger at Conar. "I was one of the men taking his coffin to the ship when Legion A'Lex stopped us. I got my back lashed for showing him homage by wearing a mourning band on my uniform!"

Brelan turned an even angrier face to Shalu. "You see? If Zeb recognized him, anyone else could, too! What provoked this tonight, anyway? What did he want repeated?"

A guilty look passed over Shalu's face. He looked to Roget for guidance. Obviously seeing no salvation, he shrugged his wide shoulders. "The other guard made a vulgar remark about the Queen."

"What kind of remark?" Brelan inquired.

Shalu looked away, apparently not wanting to repeat viciousness either, especially to a man he knew loved the woman.

Brelan swung his gaze to Loure. "Well, Thommy? What did the bastard say?"

Thom cleared his throat and ducked his bald head. "I'd rather not say."

"I'd rather you did!"

Thom looked up. He seemed to be seeking courage, then blurted it out in a rush of child-like petulance. "The two of them"—Thom pointed at the remaining guard—"came through the door talking about the lady. They were laughing and joking and I don't think the other guard saw Coni until it was too late. He was telling this one that the royal belly was near to bursting with another bastard brat. Conar took exception to the remark. He asked the man how a babe born within wedlock could be considered illegal. That dead man turned and, when he saw us sitting at the table, swaggered up, looked at Conar, and I think he must have known who he was. His eyes got all funny-looking."

Zeb shook his head. "He didn't recognize His Grace. I heard him say 'Darkwind' and he thought we were going to arrest the man we'd been told to find at all costs. He fancied himself a great swordsman and he thought to insult Lord Darkwind, then fight him." The Temple Guard glanced at Brelan. "It was a fatal mistake, wouldn't you say?"

"That wasn't his only mistake, but it got Conar's attention," Shalu admitted. "The guard said the Darkwind ought not to be fighting for the likes of the royal family. He said the lady wasn't truly married to Legion A'Lex because Legion was bastard-born. He said she was still the property of King Galen and shouldn't have joined with A'Lex."

"And he said as much to Conar?" Brelan asked, now understanding how the man had signed his own death warrant with Conar.

"Well, that and a bit more," Thom added.

"How much more?"

When no one answered, a lengthy silence ground to a stop when Conar's slurred speech shot over the still room. "He said, 'The bitch should have been slain with her first treasonous husband years ago so no brats, legal or otherwise, would have slid from between her whoring thighs!'"

Brelan flinched. "I understand now."

"Do you?" Conar shouted, coming to his elbows in the bed. He turned a hateful smirk to his brother. "Then how about explaining it to me! Why the hell should I care what is said about that faithless slut? Tell me why I risked my life to defend her so-called
honor?"

"Because you still lov…" Sentian couldn't finish, for he found himself in Conar's hard grasp, pinned to the wall. He hadn't seen the man leap from the bed and reach for him. Drunk or not, power emanated apparently from those muscled arms.

"Be careful,
very
careful, what you say," Conar hissed, shaking Heil as though he were a rag doll.

"Leave off, Coni," Brelan warned. "You know why you did what you did. Let it go. It isn't important now. I have news from Boreas Keep."

Conar grunted his disinterest, let Sentian go, then stumbled to the bed. He plopped down with enough force to rattle the headboard.

"Has something happened?" Roget asked.

"I couldn't get in, that's what happened!" Brelan snapped. "They've increased the guard four times over. Something has made them cautious. From what I have learned from Rylan's men, Legion and the rest of his court are under what can only be termed 'house arrest.' I think someone has gotten wind of the fact that he's aiding us."

"So?" There was contempt in Conar's voice.

Exasperated with his brother, Brelan glared. "
So,
they could all be in grave danger. Tohre suspects something."

"Aye, but he can't prove it," Zeb said. "He doesn't know exactly what His Highness has been doing."

"His Highness!" Conar mimicked. His upper lip raised in scorn. "His Royal Highness, King Legion, the Bastard!"

Brelan ignored the outburst. "If Tohre thinks Legion and Liza are behind this rebellion, he might—"

"It doesn't matter why Kaileel thinks!" Conar snapped. "There's nothing he can do to stop us. He won't harm A'Lex or his whoring wife because he needs them. He knows how the people would feel if their precious monarchy was harmed. They'd revolt. He'll not harm the bastard offspring, either. The slut is in no—"

Brelan leapt across the distance between them and slammed his brother against the headboard. "I won't have you speaking of her like that!" He thudded Conar's head against the wall. "If you can't keep a civil tongue in your mouth regarding her, don't say anything at all!"

Steel glints came from the dark blue eyes as they narrowed. Conar's smile was lethal. "I forgot she was your whore once, too."

One moment Conar was sitting with his back to the wall, the next he was sliding sideways down it, due to the hard, vicious punch Brelan administered. He sat where he landed and glared up at Brelan.

"If you ever, ever, open your mouth and call her that in my presence again, brother or not, I'll beat the shit out of you!"

As if finally realizing he was drunk and that his recent words were things he would not ordinarily say, Conar kept his mouth shut. Standing up against the wall, he put a hand to his jaw and continued to stare at Brelan.

"I'm returning to Boreas," Brelan told Roget. "Maybe if I can get word to Teal, I can find a way into the keep." He looked at Thom. "Take Zeb to Gull's place. Make sure he stays healthy on the way, eh?"

Thom nodded and he and the Temple Guard left.

"Have you tried going through the grotto?" Conar asked, his voice quite, subdued.

Brelan looked at him, his mouth open in shock. "By the gods, but I'd forgotten about that!"

Conar shrugged as he sat on the bed. "Be careful. That's where Galen died and where I lost what life I had." He laid down and turned his back to them.

Brelan looked at Shalu. "Keep an eye on this child, Taborn. Keep his ass out of mischief." He strode to the door, jerked it open, and fled before Shalu could answer.